


Deep in my Daydreams

by Anonymous



Series: Sweet Sweet Fantasy [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, OT3, Oral Sex, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Do you want it to be a surprise surprise,” Patrick already knows the answer, but he checks anyway, “or do you want to be able to prepare a little?”“The latter, please.” Because, for David, surprises need to be carefully curated. Especially sex surprises.“Alright, love. We’ll talk over the details tonight?”--Mind the relationships, mind the tags, and if it's not your thing, give it a skip.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Stevie Budd/David Rose, Stevie Budd/David Rose
Series: Sweet Sweet Fantasy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775095
Comments: 78
Kudos: 129
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unkindravens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/gifts).



> Title from Mariah Carey "Fantasy"

“So, you remember how you…um, arranged for that little…uh, _surprise_ for me a while back?” Patrick scrubs his hand across the back of his head, the way he does when he’s a little uncertain, and a faint flush paints his cheeks.

“Ummm, you mean with Ted?” David’s not sure where this is going, but whatever it is, it _must_ be good if Patrick is already blushing like that.

“Yeah, that.”

“Yes, honey,” David teases, “I have fond memories of that little surprise.” He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, his expression a battleground between fond amusement at Patrick’s adorable nervousness and unadulterated lust at the memory of his sweet Patrick getting spit-roasted.

“Well,” Patrick starts, “I’ve been thinking…” His voice drops off, shy and anxious, and for a split second, David worries that he’s about to get the “I’m in love with Ted” admission, or maybe the slightly less panic-inducing, but still terrifying, “We should open the relationship because I already have” talk. But only for that moment, because he loves Patrick and _knows_ Patrick and, most importantly, _trusts_ Patrick. So there’s nothing to be concerned about.

But that doesn’t stop his eyebrows from knitting together in… _concentration,_ that’s it, that’s all it is. Not—worry, but concentration. He’s just concentrating really hard.

And sometimes anxiety’s a real bitch.

“Would you be okay if I wanted to return the favor? Only, you know, this time I’m actually _there_ with you?” Patrick levels his gaze at David, sure and steady, all except for the nervous way he’s tugging the left corner of his bottom lip between his teeth and chewing, the way he does when he’s trying so hard to be brave.

“I don’t want to fuck Ted,” David blurts, rushing to clap his palm over his mouth like he could somehow pull the words back in. Patrick chuckles, that special little “my husband is being ridiculous” laugh. “Of course not, David,” he says, the corners of his lips turning down in an adorable upside-down smile, “I was thinking of someone else that you’d…you know, actually _want_ to fuck.” David’s face makes approximately 2.5 journeys around the sun and back before settling into wide-eyed, slightly shaky confusion. “Um, well, in that case…I could possibly be amenable…you know…to _that_.”

And now Patrick’s shaking his head and smiling like he’s just seen a unicorn wearing ice skates—a combination of fond wonder and complete confusion—and that’s the last straw. David leans over the counter, wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck, and pulls him in for a nice, long kiss.

“Do you want it to be a _surprise_ surprise,” Patrick already knows the answer, but he checks anyway, “or do you want to be able to prepare a little?”

“The latter, please.” Because, for David, surprises need to be carefully curated. Especially sex surprises.

“Alright, love. We’ll talk over the details tonight?”

Still a bit baffled at…well, the whole situation, really, David just nods.

* * *

_Wake up, Maggie, I think I got something to say to you…_

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Patrick drops a kiss onto the soft black tangle of bedhead peeking out from beneath the comforter, and then rolls over to snooze the alarm on his phone again.

A string of grumpy, incoherent syllables come flooding out from the David-shaped lump next to him, and then that thick, raven hair disappears as David burrows deeper under the covers. Patrick bites back the laugh, and then snuggles back underneath the comforter and turns onto his side, scooting toward the center of the bed until his butt presses against David’s knees. A few wiggles of his hips later, he’s comfortably ensconced as the little spoon, his back flush against David’s firm chest, David’s arm draped over his stomach, pulling him in close and cuddling like Patrick’s his favorite teddy bear. And, now that Patrick thinks about it? Well, he kind of _is._ He sighs into his husband’s arms, and gets a contented little snuffle in response.

David’s breath is a warm tease against the back of his neck, making the tiny hairs at his nape stand on end and sending a shiver down his spine. Before he realizes it, Patrick is squirming in David’s embrace, his ass wiggling of its own volition against the cock chubbing up against his crack.

“David?” His voice is a breathy, needy little thing, and his hips are rolling now, small, tight circles as he tries to entice his husband into consciousness. “You gonna wake up before I have to leave for work?”

There’s a hitch in the breath against his neck, followed by the press of hot, wet mouth. _Yes._ Patrick moans at the feel of David’s soft lips, the hint of tongue against his already sensitized skin.

Suddenly, Rod Stewart’s gravelly voice echoes through the room again. _No._

Dammit.

Reluctantly, Patrick rolls away from David’s heat, and this time, shuts off his alarm with a sigh. “Raincheck?” he asks, hopefully.

David tosses the comforter back with a dramatic flourish, and glares at Patrick. Well, in Patrick’s general direction. He’s squinting, and his eyes are unfocused, from sleep and from the lack of corrective lenses, and it’s one of Patrick’s favorite David looks. Grumpy morning David is fucking _adorable,_ especially when he’s scowling like that. He looks like a giant, cuddly Siamese cat and Patrick just wants to snuggle the crap out of him.

Patrick grins at his sleep-mussed husband, his face all wide and gooey as he watches David rub the crusty bits from the corners of his sleep-bleary eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that when I’m gross,” David mumbles just before he pushes his face into Patrick’s chest. “Especially when you’re not even gonna put out.” Although muffled, the whine in David’s voice comes through crystal clear.

“Hey, I’m not the one who slept through three rounds of his unassumingly sexy husband’s advances,” Patrick teases. David opens his mouth like he’s going to argue but realizes he’s been beaten. So instead, he gives his head a delicate shake, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling as he purses lips, smirking in amused defeat. “Well, if you’re going to get _technical_ …” The grin blossoms wide and bright across David’s face as he leans across the bed, tilting his face up expectantly.

Patrick adores the way David smiles into kisses, that he _still_ smiles into kisses. And maybe he lets himself get distracted by David’s kisses, for just a little while. Okay, for long enough that he’s got to hustle to the apothecary to open on time.

It’s only after the sign’s been flipped to “Open” that Patrick realizes what he’d meant to tell David in bed.

**PATRICK: Tonight’s the night, meant to tell you before.**

**DAVID: _???_**

**PATRICK: Your carefully curated surprise. Still wanna do it?**

**DAVID:** 💚💚💚 **Yes, please.**

*****

He watches David carefully as he moves David’s arm over his head and tightens the buckle on the leather cuff attached to the headboard. “You doin’ alright?” he husks, searching for the slightest flicker of discomfort on his husband’s beautiful face, but is only rewarded by a languid, dazzling smile as David looks up at him with a look of sheer adoration and trust. His dark eyes, dilated coal-black beneath heavy lids, smolder as the tip of that sinful pink tongue darts out and slides, slow and teasing, along his upper lip. “Mmhmm,” David nods his assent, the movement languorous as though he was easing his way through molasses.

“Give those a test, tell me how everything eels.” Patrick stands up, stepping back from the bed, and watches expectantly.

For what feels like an eternity, David lies there, naked and splayed out on their bed, and just _looks_ at him. Then slowly, _so_ slowly, his eyes locked on Patrick’s, he begins to move. His back arches off the mattress, lithe limbs sliding smoothly along the silky sheets. It’s hypnotic, watching David move like that, stretching slow and lazy with an utterly feline grace. It’s mesmerizing; it’s poetry; it’s…distracting, is what it is, because David’s just writhing on the bed, and he still hasn’t done what Patrick told him to do.

 _Focus, Brewer._ Patrick blinks a few times, gives his head a little shake, just enough to clear out the lust-fog.

“David,” he growls, swallowing thickly at the way David’s cock twitches at the sound, “check the restraints. Please.” His eyes wide and twinkling, David gives the wrist cuffs a gentle tug, then purses his lips in that gorgeous “why aren’t we fucking _right now?_ ” smile that drives Patrick absolutely apeshit.

“Color, David?”

“Green, Mr. Brewer.”

“Still wanna do this?” David takes his plump bottom lip between his teeth and nods again, his gaze full of absolute _want._ “Words, David,” Patrick commands.

“Yes, Patrick,” David takes in a big gulp of air, then closes his eyes, like he’s steadying himself for…something. When he opens them, his expression is soft and full of care. “And…you? You’re sure about this? You want this, too?” His hands may be restrained, but Patrick feels the warmth of David’s love and trust like a physical embrace. God, Patrick loves him.

Patrick’s gaze goes unfocused, and he feels a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he thinks of how they got here together. “Absolutely, love. Green.” He leans over the bed and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of David’s mouth. With a deft turn of his head, David deepens the kiss, prying Patrick’s lips open with his own and licking into Patrick’s mouth. They kiss until Patrick, his back aching from the angle, winces. With a sympathetic hum around Patrick’s tongue, David pulls back and grins. “So are we ready to do this?” he asks.

Patrick drops a quick kiss to David’s forehead and nods. He’s leaning in for another kiss when they’re both surprised by the doorbell echoing through the hallway.

“Showtime,” he whispers, delighted to see David’s eyes growing dark with lust, and then goes to open the door.

“Hey Stevie.” Patrick opens his arms, welcoming his petite friend in for a hug. “We’ve missed you.”

“Been a long time, Brewer,” she says, wrapping leather-clad arms around his torso. “I—I….um, haven’t had enough to drink to do that genuine human emotion yet.” Patrick can feel her smiling against his chest, though, and it feels right. Everything feels right. _Yes,_ he thinks as he feels her delicate body pressing against his, thinks about the beautiful man they both love dearly waiting in bed for both of them. _Greengreengreen._

“Come on in, Budd, there’s someone else just dying to see you.” He takes her by the hand and leads her inside.

* * *

“So how was the…what region were you touring this time?” Patrick’s voice carries from the front of the house, loud enough that it’s _obvious_ he wants David to hear. Especially since it’s pretty clear from her muffled responses that Stevie _isn’t_ playing the game. His husband is a sadistic troll. An annoying, sadistic, beautiful, compassionate _troll_ and David is seriously pathetic that he can’t even finish a thought complaining about the beautiful asshole without feeling warm and fuzzy. And a little turned on.

As Patrick’s laughter echoes from the kitchen, David gives an experimental tug at the restraints. Okay, maybe a _lot_ turned on. By his gorgeous asshole troll of a husband…who’s about to make one of his deepest fantasies come true. Yes. David admits it. He is utterly and completely turned on and head over heels in love with that delicious and surprising man. He lets his head fall back on the pillow and settles in to wait for his two favorite people in the world.

The whistle of the tea kettle startles him out of his (very patient and magnanimous, _thanksomuch_ ) reverie.

_Tea? That motherfucker is making them tea out there? What the fuck?_

“Patrick!” David whines, loud and a bit more nasal than he’d like, “what’s taking so long?”

This time laughter from both of them rings out through the house. David huffs out a frustrated sigh. He’s going to pay for that whining.

_Assholes. Both of them. Utter, complete assholes._

David tugs on his restraints—an exercise in futility, he’s fully aware, but he needs to do _something_ to ease the nervous energy simmering just beneath the surface—and arches his back, pushing his ass into the mattress.

The laughter from the kitchen has died down to an indistinct mumble, but it’s clear from the cadence and volume of their voices that conversation is both nowhere close to ending and, more significantly, nowhere closer to the bedroom.

The troll he married is no longer _actively_ taunting him with the small talk; it just comes that naturally to him. Patience is not David’s strong suit. He knows that. Everyone who’s ever met him knows that, for fuck’s sake.

They’re toying with him; they must be toying with him.

Unless…what if Patrick’s having second thoughts? David furrows his brows, chews on the inside of his cheeks, suddenly consumed with worry.

“Patrick?” This time, it’s not a whine; it’s urgent, but without that earlier desperation. Patrick reacts immediately, his footsteps moving rapidly down the hall.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he bursts into the room, his face the portrait of concern.

“Y-yeah…I—uh, I just got worried about you.” At David’s admission, Patrick’s face transforms, a gooey smile that starts with a crinkle in his eyes and blossoms into a full-face affair.

David breathes a sigh of relief at the sight, chewing idly on his lower lip before he continues, shyly, “Color check?”

A wicked gleam in his eyes turns his husband’s loving smile into something predatory.

Patrick licks his lips as he rakes his gaze over David’s body, lingering just a smidge too long at where David’s cock is beginning to thicken.

“Very fucking green, David.”

Patrick rests a broad palm on the edge of the bed next to David’s ribcage and begins to lean in for a kiss. He’s just looking at David as he moves, eyes hungry and laser-focused, and David _wants._ He sends up a silent thank you to whatever deity or random accident of the universe responsible the man looming over him, the love of his life, his goddamn _husband,_ who loves him and appreciates him and still looks at him _like that_ after years together, and David absolutely will not cry, _refuses_ to cry about how lucky he is when he’s tied up in their bed waiting to get fucked and can feel a dribble of precome sliding down his dick.

“Patrick,” he whispers, “kiss me.”

And of course, his husband complies. A gentle press of those lips, dry (because Patrick always lost his lip balms) but still somehow soft and _perfect_ against David’s own, surprisingly chaste given David’s current state. David tries to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue darting out to swipe at the seam of Patrick’s lips, but Patrick pulls back just enough to leave David wanting.

“Please?” he whines. Patrick grins, then ghosts his lips over David’s again before shifting to drop a kiss to the center of his forehead.

From beyond the door way, Stevie’s muffled voice rings out. “I’d ask ‘Are you decent?’ but given the context—” she trails off for a bit, and once again, David is lost in Patrick, the feel of his breath hot against David’s face as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against David’s.

“It seems…unnecessary.” The closeness of her voice draws the attention of both men. Stevie’s leaning against the doorframe, a goddamn vision wrapped in flannel and leather.

 _Holy fuck_ , David’s brain goes a little fuzzy as he takes her in, while Patrick’s still leaning down, nuzzling at David’s neck, his breath a hot tease, and all David can think is how did he ever get so lucky? He may whimper a little, he’s not sure, as he watches her move closer.

Artfully tousled waves of thick, raven hair frame her face, and she’s wearing makeup, for fuck’s sake. She may have a limited repertoire, but the girl knows how to rock the fuck out of a smokey eye, and tonight she’s upped her game with a blood-red lip stain that must be new.

She’s dressed to pull; he recognizes the leather jacket from their days of trolling the Wobbly Elm for randoms. But there’s something different, he realizes, noting the soft flannel shirt peeking out from beneath the edges of the leather, not the fuck-me tanks she would wear on the hunt. With the two brain cells left that are still firing somewhat properly, David thinks it’s nice, the contrast between the two fabrics—the aloofness of the leather mixed with the…the snuggliness of the flannel.

He likes snuggly, soft Stevie. And snuggly Patrick. He wants to snuggle the crap out of both of them. And, you know, other things, too. David closes his eyes and giggles at the thought of it, of being the creamy-filling of a Stevie-Patrick snuggle sandwich.

God, he’s light-headed and overwhelmed already, and the two of them are just _standing there_ , and David’s giddy and wants… _fuck_ , he’s not sure what he wants, but he wants it desperately, needs it like he needs to breathe, and he knows, without a doubt, as he looks up at the two people he loves more than anything, that they’re going to give it to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the belated post. Sunday I decided that I didn't like the original version and it needed to be rewritten. And then it kind of exploded and went in a different direction and now, here we are, later and with another chapter forthcoming.   
> Bright side: the new version is already twice the length of the original, with many more orgasms.

“Hey Budd.” Patrick’s gaze doesn’t move from where he’s watching David on the bed, those deep brown eyes dazed, unfocused.

“Kinda feels like I’m interrupting something here, boys.” Stevie hasn’t moved from the door. David whines as he glances toward her, and Patrick just eats it up. He wants to see how many ways that David can fall apart. He gives David a playful wink, and then reaches out to beckon Stevie closer.

“Come show me how you suck David’s cock.” There’s a shift in energy between them at his command, and it’s fucking _beautiful._ It’s like Stevie has dropped some kind of mask, an invisible barrier, and what remains is sheer, unadulterated desire.

Stevie obeys, coming forward to tangle her fingers with Patrick’s. For a moment, he’s surprised at how soft her hand is. Then again, she’s known David for even longer than he has, and after David bumped up her discount, has been much less recalcitrant about her prescribed skincare routine. So it shouldn’t surprise him that those delicate little hands are as soft as David’s.

Stevie’s breath hitches in her throat, and she sucks that plump red-stained bottom lip between her teeth. Patrick brings their hands up to his face, presses his lips to her knuckles, and feels a flare of heat in his gut at the way her eyes keep moving between him and David, wide-eyed and eager. Like she’s awaiting Patrick’s instruction— _fuck,_ no, not his _instruction_ , his _permission_ —to do what she so clearly _wants_.

“I know David wants that,” Patrick’s mouth curves into a rakish grin as he teases the back of her hand with the heat of his breath. “Would you like that, Stevie?”

Stevie chews idly on her lower lip and closes her eyes, thick black lashes fanning out so prettily against her pale cheeks.“Stevie, I’m gonna need verbal affirmation here. Do you want to keep going? Give me a color.” Patrick strokes a fingertip along the side of her face, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear, and then gently tips her chin up so that he she’s able to look him in the eye.

“Steeeevie,” David whines, wiggling against his restraints. “Answer him this decade. Please.”

David’s mini-tantrum breaks through the tension just enough to make Stevie giggle. “Oh god, how did I forget how fucking _whiny_ you get when you're horny?”

“Some of us are tied up naked, you know,” David huffs, “and I’d appreciate an orgasm or two before I lose feeling in my extremities, _thankssomuch.”_

Patrick slides his fingers through Stevie’s hair to cup her neck, leans in close, and whispers in her ear, low and throaty, “Are you good to keep going?” He’s rewarded by the movement of her cheek against his mouth as she tugs her lips into a predatory smile.

“Yes, sir.”

_Fuck._

* * *

_Why isn’t anyone touching him yet?_

An electric current thrums just beneath the surface of David’s skin, and he’s on fire. He’s on fucking _fire_ , and they’re just _standing_ there, their foreheads touching and staring at each other like they’re ready to tear each other apart.

_Fuck, that’s hot._

His hips thrust up, involuntarily, the sudden movement rattling the bed frame, and _yes_. Now his two favorite people have turned that red hot focus to _him_ , and that’s even _better._

Patrick nuzzles his nose into the hair above Stevie’s ear and whispers something—David can’t hear _what_ —to her. Whatever it is, though, David is totally on board with it because she’s looking down at him like _that_ now.

“Go ahead,” Patrick nudges her toward him, and finally _finally_ he’s going to get what he wants.

Stevie shrugs out of her coat and hands it to Patrick. “Hold this, Brewer,” she says, as casually as she would tell him to hold her beer when they play pool at the Wobbly Elm, and not like she’s just stepped out of her jeans or started unbuttoning that flannel. She climbs into the bed, resting her hands on the tops of his thighs, and slings a leg over his.

Heat pools in his belly as he rakes his eyes down her body, letting his gaze linger on the swell of her breasts in a sheer black bra that’s definitely not something he’s seen before, and he’ll need to ask her when she went lingerie shopping without him along for approval when they’re not about to fuck because _damn_. David lets his eyes continue down, mapping out the soft curves of her waist, her stomach. She’s gorgeous like this, always has been; it was always so completely _breathtaking_ to watch her give herself over to pleasure, and maybe he’s missed this, missed it a lot.

Waves of dark hair tumble over her shoulders as she bends down over him, ghosting her breath over the dark hair beneath his navel before slowly crawling her way up his body. She mouths teasing, wet kisses along his stomach—a bit softer than she probably remembers, but that’s okay—his ribcage, his sternum. She noses through the hair on his chest, takes a nipple between her teeth, and clamps down until he hisses his pleasure, then moves to do the same on the other side. David’s lost in it, in the feel of her lips and tongue and teeth, barely cognizant of how his own hips are rolling, seeking out friction, straining to push up against the vee of her legs, to feel that wet heat against and around his cock.”Stevie,” he whimpers, “Stevie, _please_.”

“Fuck.” Patrick’s a little out of breath, his voice strained, and David can see that he’s into it. _Holy shit,_ David gulps in a ragged breath, because _Patrick is into this, too_. Their eyes lock from across the room. Slowly, deliberately, David looks down at the bulge in his husband’s jeans and licks his lips, and smiles lasciviously when Patrick groans.

_Yes._

* * *

“He really likes it when you let your teeth graze up his shaft.”

Stevie pops off David’s cock just long enough to give Patrick a devilish grin, and then takes David deep into her throat again, those doe-eyes trained on Patrick the entire time. She winks at him and bares her teeth, smiling around David’s girth, and then slowly drags her way back up to the head. David’s hips stutter at the sensation, and Patrick is pleased to see that he’s taken his kiss-swollen bottom lip between his own teeth.

“Yeah, just like that, Stevie. So good. Isn't she doing a good job, David?” David whines as Stevie makes another slow pass down his cock, this time pausing when her nose brushes the dark curls at his pelvis. It’s obscene, watching how her lush pink lips spread wide around his husband’s dick, how he can fucking see the movement of her throat as she swallows around him. _Holy fucking Christ._ Patrick takes a shaky inhale, and tries to let it out as slowly as possible. He needs to maintain some cool here; he’s the one calling the shots. He swallows thickly, his mouth watering at the scene in front of him, his own tongue heavy in his throat.

 _“_ That’s it. Such a good girl, Stevie, how you’re taking David’s cock.” Stevie’s eyes flutter shut at the praise, and the subtle roll of her hips does not escape Patrick’s notice. _Budd has a praise kink? Who knew?_

“Just look at you, look at both of you, so gorgeous like this, making each other feel good.” Patrick isn’t even sure what he’s saying at this point, the words are just falling from his mouth as he watches his husband’s best friend giving him the kind of blowjob that makes his own dick throb in envy. The kind of blowjob he wants to be getting right about now. They’re both so beautiful, the two of them, all pale skin and dark hair just writhing on his bed, and Patrick is hungry. He’s so damn hungry for it. For all of it. For both of them. _Fuck._ “That’s it, you two. I love seeing this, seeing you both being so good for me. You’re both so goddamn beautiful like this.”

 _Fuck._ This wasn’t the plan, but _goddamn_ his dick is so hard he can feel the zipper of his too-tight jeans digging into it. With awkward, trembling hands Patrick undoes his fly, sighing in relief when he’s finally got space to breathe, so to speak. As he watches Stevie tongue at the head of David’s cock, moaning as she laps the precome into that sinful mouth, he can’t help it; he palms himself through his briefs. Just a little bit, just enough to take the edge off.

_That’s better._

Patrick clears his throat a couple times, but they don’t notice. Stevie’s still nestled between David’s thighs, hair falling in tangled waves as her head bobs obscenely up and down his cock, while David lies unnaturally still. His thighs are tense, quivering with effort, and Patrick knows it’s taking all his focus not to fuck up into Stevie’s mouth, to thrust hard and fast that beautiful face. David needs a distraction, Patrick thinks.

“David.” Patrick’s voice is a lot steadier than he feels right now, thankfully, his command garnering immediate attention from two pairs of devastating brown eyes. A mixture of saliva and precome dribbles down Stevie’s chin as she pulls off David’s dick, then licks the taste of him off her lips.

“Everything okay, Patrick?” she asks, eyes a little glassy and unfocused.

“Uh-huh, beautiful.” Stevie ducks her head at the compliment. Patrick smiles fondly at the contradiction of it, her lips spit-slick from sucking David’s cock, and him calling her beautiful is what makes Stevie blush. “I just thought David might want to have you sit on his face while we get him ready for me to fuck him.”

“Um, y-yes please.” She’s still pumping a delicate fist up and down David’s shaft, so Patrick moves to help her out of her panties.

“Such lovely manners,” he leans in, breathing the words against the shell of her ear, beyond pleased at the shuddery sigh it pulls from her mouth. He ghosts his palm up her thigh, lets it settle at her hip. “Is it okay if I help with these?”

Stevie swallows, slow and thick, and nods at him as she presses into Patrick’s touch with a little wiggle. As he tugs the flimsy material down her thighs—it feels like silk, but he’s not certain about it; that’s David’s area of expertise—Patrick leans in and licks a bead of precome off David’s dick.

David bucks up at the flick of his tongue, groaning unintelligible syllables at the sensation of Stevie’s fist and Patrick’s mouth, working in tandem, and it that delicious sound travels straight to Patrick’s cock, and maybe he’s groaning now, too. He realizes it’s not just Stevie’s hand stroking David; she’s licking up his shaft, and then their mouths are meeting the crown. That’s the tip of her tongue sliding against his along David’s frenulum, her hot breath teasing them both just before she closes her lips around David’s cockhead. She’s making the sweetest little sounds; breathy, contented moans, and Patrick is enthralled. She’s never looked or sounded so pretty as she is right now, suckling at the head of his husband’s cock. He reaches for the back of her head and pulls her in for a bruising kiss, a mess of tongues and lips as they smear David’s precome around each other’s mouths.

_Fuck._

They’re both panting as they come up for air, and Patrick is pretty certain he looks as debauched and dazed and breathless as Stevie does. “Alright.” He blinks a few times, to clear his head, to let some of the blood come back into his brain so that he can get back on track. “Alright…n-now, let’s get everyone situated.”

He’s mumbling more to himself than anything at this point, because Stevie’s attention has returned to David’s dick, and David is just lost to it, his hips rolling in sync to the movement of Stevie’s mouth. While they’re distracted like that, Patrick figures, he can make himself useful, so he unhooks David’s ankle restraints from the foot of the bed. He checks out his husband’s feet for stiffness or circulation problems, massaging each one, making small circles with each ankle, and then undresses himself before he climbs onto the foot of the bed. From this angle, he can see just how much Stevie enjoys sucking cock. Her hips rock in tiny little circles as she works David over, drawing Patrick’s attention to her pussy, those glistening pink lips emerging surrounded by a neat little forest of damp curls, and and god _damn_ he wants to taste it. So he crawls up behind her, nuzzles his nose against her hip as he kisses his words into that soft, pale skin. “Stevie,” he breathes, “can I lick you? Please?”

Stevie snorts around David’s cock, and it makes her whole body wiggle. She pops off to look over her shoulder at him, and the loss of her mouth pulls David’s focus to him, as well. Two sets of dark eyes are trained on him as Stevie replies, “Consider this blanket consent for anything but watersports and scat, Brewer. Now stop interrupting me.”

When she goes to swallow David back down, David shoots him a pleasure-dazed grin. Those intense brown eyes stay locked on Patrick as he settles behind Stevie, lids growing heavy with arousal as he watches Patrick move in closer, licking up from her clitoral hood to her perineum. David sucks that pouty bottom lip between his teeth, nodding hungrily, urging Patrick on, and _fuck_ if that that isn’t the hottest thing ever. Patrick quirks his lips into a hint of a smile and winks at his beautiful husband, and then buries his face in Stevie’s heat. He traces the tip of his tongue along her labia, teases her clit with the heat of his breath until she’s squirming, hips gyrating as she pushes back for more.

He continues teasing Stevie with his tongue and David with his gaze, losing himself in the game of it, reveling in the musky scent of Stevie’s arousal, the tang of her on his tongue, the delicious little sounds coming from both of them. Those snarky, sarcastic mouths both brought to whimpers of desperation, and Patrick laps it all up as he licks into Stevie’s folds, starts to suck on her clit. Soon—or maybe not so soon, what even is time?—Stevie is tensing with the force of her impending climax, grinding against his face, and then she’s falling over the edge, hips bucking uncontrollably as she comes on his tongue. Patrick grips her hips, holding her tight against his face as she rides the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“You okay to keep going, or do you need to tap out, Budd?” Patrick taunts when she collapses onto the bed next to David, but sue him if he’s feeling a little smug, seeing her all fucked out like that.

“Oh, game fucking _on_ , Brewer. It’s gonna take more than one wear me out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion. Patrick/David/Stevie smut. That's it. That's the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay, but in the time of quarantine, life got in the way. But now it's done.
> 
> Unbetaed and i apologize for the inevitable typos

Patrick looks fucking _obscene_ like that, grinning hungrily at David, his lips and chin all slick and glistening as he crawls his way up David’s body. It’s seriously too much for a mere mortal to withstand. _Fucking hell._ When Patrick leans down for a kiss, David surges up to meet him. It’s a sloppy mess of a kiss as David laps at the slick smeared on Patrick’s face before licking into his mouth, tasting Stevie on his tongue. David groans into the kiss, groans at the familiarity and comfort of it all—of Patrick, of Stevie—and at the novelty of those two comforts melding together into something so deliciously different. He’s never felt so loved, or so fucking turned on, not in his entire goddamn _life._

“Gonna uncuff you now, babe, okay?” Patrick pants into his mouth, and maybe it takes a second or two to register what his husband’s even talking about, but David’s brain is operating on a bit of a lag at the moment. Sue him. 

“Yeah, yes, uh-huh.” He nods, only a little stupidly, which really is quite the feat since Stevie’s turned her attentions back to his groin, nuzzling into the tender spot where thigh meets hip and _oh shit_ tracing the tip of her tongue along the side of his sac. His hips buck up without his permission at the delicate torment of it, and he can see Patrick grinning above him as he unbuckles one of the restraints.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” There’s laughter in that honey sweet voice, a teasing lightness draped over the deep husk of sheer, unadulterated lust, and it’s just so goddamn perfect David wants to drown in it. It’s all so much, so fucking much, overwhelming even, and David can’t form actual words right now, so he just stares up at Patrick, blinking owlishly, and nods.

“Good.” Patrick leans down and presses a chaste kiss to his lips while he massages David’s hand, then pulls back to examine the appendage for any signs of wear and tear. Once he’s satisfied, he kisses David’s palm, then turns his attention back to the headboard to unbuckle the other wrist.

“You good to keep going?” Honey brown eyes plumb the depths of his soul, and David’s ready to float away until he feels Patrick’s fingertips grazing his jaw. “David?” Vaguely aware that he still has the ability to move his body, David nods sleepily, feeling stupid and lust-drunk and okay, maybe a little bit lost in his husband’s gaze.

“ _David._ ” This time it’s a command, accompanied by a gentle tap, a flick of Patrick’s finger against David’s jaw. “Words, David. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, mmhmm, good, green yes.”

“Good boy.” Patrick leans in, kisses his praise into the crinkle between David’s brows. David smiles lazily, then hisses as a particularly wet nibble at his hip reminds him that Stevie’s still there. “Think you can make me proud, make Stevie come again while I eat you out? I bet you can.” Patrick nuzzles the tips of their noses together, then slithers his way down the other side of David’s body, biting and licking and sucking marks as he goes.

* * *

Patrick fumbles as he maneuvers down the bed, flinging his foot down to the floor to catch himself when he starts to slide off the edge.

_Smooth, Brewer._

Thankfully, David’s too blissed out to notice, those long limbs writhing on the sheets under Stevie’s ministrations. Her head is buried in David’s crotch, shiny tangles of her hair a striking contrast to the paleness of David’s belly. Patrick swallows, his tongue feeling so goddamn heavy in his mouth as he stares at the two of them. At the rate he’s going, he may explode before he gets to David’s ass.

When he reaches the foot of the bed, he crawls on hands and knees until he’s at a more secure position at David’s legs. Kneeling, he runs his fingertips up along the tops of David’s legs, then sweeps back down along the more sensitive skin of his inner thighs until David squirms and adjusts his position, planting his feet and spreading his knees wider to make room for Patrick to between them.

As David shifts, Stevie stops what she’s doing to his dick and looks at Patrick, those doe eyes dark and hungry. Patrick can’t remember the last time, if ever, a woman looking at him like that lit such a fire in his belly, but _fuck_ if it doesn’t make him want even harder. He surges forward, capturing Stevie’s mouth in an aggressive kiss just above David’s cock. There’s absolutely no finesse to it, just a mess of tongues and teeth made all the more intense by how he can feel David’s cockhead against his chin, blurting precome from the tip.

“Steeevie.” David’s breathy, indignant whine breaks through the haze of the kiss, and then they’re both laughing into and against each other’s mouths.

“Such a needy bottom,” Stevie murmurs against his lips, and Patrick can’t help but chuckle more.

“Guess you need to find some way to shut him up, huh Budd?” Patrick nips at that pouty bottom lip, nuzzles the tip of his nose against hers. She grins at him, and then, without breaking eye contact, slings a leg over David so that she’s kneeling over him, her pussy hovering just out of reach above David’s face. Then, winking, she ducks her face down just close enough to tease David’s cock with her breath. Catching on, Patrick follows suit, exhaling slowly and he slides his way down between David’s legs. When David’s hips start to twitch, they work in tandem, Steve pushingdown on his hipbones as Patrick wraps his hands under and around David’s thighs to hold him still.

“I hate you both.”

Patrick flicks his tongue along David’s perineum, then follows the path with a hot breath. “No you don’t,” he replies, as Stevie dips the tip of her tongue to taste the bead of David’s precome.

“No I don’t—”

David shudders beneath them, his words cut off by Stevie grinding down onto his face.

Time dilates and constricts, becoming utterly meaningless as David writhes beneath them. It’s not intentional, Patrick will insist afterward, but he and Stevie work like a well-oiled machine, keeping David on edge for what David later swears is no less than 87 eternities. Patrick loses himself in the feel of David falling to pieces around his tongue. It had taken a while for David to warm up to getting rimmed, to allow himself to let go and enjoy it, and _holy fucking god_ is Patrick glad he did. The way David whimpers and squirms as he gives into the pleasure, the way Patrick can actually _feel_ him relaxing and letting go? It’s intoxicating enough on its own. Throw in a beautiful woman 69-ing with David while Patrick’s eating him out? Well…if Patrick needs to grind his own dick against the mattress, that’s a matter to keep between his dick and the sex blanket.

When he registers the swat to the back of his head, Patrick isn’t sure much time has passed, or how long Stevie’s been trying to get his attention.

“Finally,” she huffs, too sweaty and glassy-eyed for Patrick to take her irritation seriously, “earth to Ass Eater. You listening?”

“Hu—wha?” Patrick can’t help it. He ducks down and licks a stripe over the puckered flesh of David’s hole.”

“I _said,_ ” she continues, breathless, “wanna see you fuck him.” David moans in response, although whether it’s in agreement with Stevie’s request or in response to Patrick’s tongue is unclear. Regardless, it’s a pretty awesome idea.

“Toss me the lube, babe,” he commands her, and if her cheeks pinken a bit at the endearment, he won’t tell, though it does make him grin.

Between the two of them, Patrick and Stevie have already gotten David pretty sloppy with a mixture of saliva and his own precome, but the lube somehow makes everything slicker and messier and that much more visceral. Patrick makes short work of opening David up, keyed up as they all are already, there’s no need to draw out the next step more than necessary. Soon, David’s rocking against his fingers, his groans muffled between Stevie’s thighs as she rides his face like there’s no tomorrow.

 _Smack._

Patrick realizes after the fact that David has spanked Stevie to get her to lift up, and that’s hotter than it has any right to be, for some reason.

“You okay?” Patrick asks him.

“Mmhmm,” David gasps. “Ready for you now.”

“Thank fucking Christ,” Stevie adds, before falling forward, practically face-planting on David’s dick. “Get to it, Brewer.”

Lapping at David’s cockhead with lazy, almost delicate swipes of her tongue, she eyes Patrick’s cock hungrily as he starts to slick himself up. Without even thinking, he pushes forward, his cock sliding, wet and messy, up the underside of David’s shaft, so that he can slap the corner of her lips with his own dick. And if he lets himself get lost in the feel of Stevie’s tongue and soft lips as she mouths at them both? So sue him.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” he manages to grit out, reaching for the lube again. More slick, and then he’s guiding himself to David’s hole, pressing forward as he watches his husband’s best friend deep throat him like a champ. _Holy goddamn motherfucking shit._ When that first ring of muscle gives, welcoming him into that familiar, tight heat, Patrick has to think of England, think of Roland Schitt changing dirty diapers, think of Moira and Johnny in latex, think of _anything_ else to keep from shooting off like a rocket. It’s intense; it’s _always_ intense, that first, slow slide into David, but with Stevie there, it’s all magnified. She’s propped herself up on her hands, a gossamer line of spit clinging from the pout of her lower lip to the tip of David’s cock as she just _stares_ at them, watching his cock slide inside his husband’s ass like it was the most fascinating thing she could ever imagine. She’s so damn beautiful, he can’t help but think, fondly, as she draws one side of that lower lip between her teeth, still watching with rapt attention as his strokes begin to deepen.

“Wow,” she stammers, “just…wow.” And Patrick definitely understands the sentiment.

 _Thank god Stevie’s here,_ he thinks as he finally bottoms out, _I’m not gonna last for shit._

* * *

“Harder, please, _harder_. _”_ David’s got a faceful of pussy, so he’s not exactly sure whether Patrick can hear him begging or not, but somehow his husband gets the message anyway. Patrick manhandles him, pushing on the back of one thigh so that his knee is practically in his armpit, and for the thousandth time since he and Patrick got together, David sends up a little thank you to Twyla for introducing him to yoga. The shift in position means that now Patrick’s thrusts get even deeper, dragging against his prostate on each exit. Between that and the silky wet heat of Stevie’s tongue around his cock, David’s ready to blow.

As Stevie swallows, her throat squeezing around the head of his cock, David looses a feral moan that vibrates against her swollen lips. She squirms when he mouths against her clit already getting oversensitive, but he’s pretty sure he can pull another orgasm from her before he comes. After a few more broad swipes of his tongue along her outer labia, David spreads her cheeks and nibbles gently along her perineum. He teases the pucker with his breath, and it makes Stevie go still above him, tense with anticipation.

David loves it, loves how she’s frozen like that, with primal, urgent _want_ , and if Patrick weren’t nailing his prostate like a goddamn machine he’d draw it out even longer. But _fuck_ , maybe that can happen later, he tells himself, and then just goes wild, licking at her asshole like it’s the secret to his salvation, broad swipes of tongue alternating with gentle flicks before he closes his lips over it and spears his tongue inside, and it’s not long until Stevie’s falling apart above him, her thighs shaking as she comes again, and that’s it. He can’t hold back now, even if he wanted to. David’s orgasm hits him like a freight train, the impact causing every muscle in his body to tense and then relax in a fraction of a second as he pulses, exploding into the heat of Stevie’s mouth. And all the while, he’s holding her tight as she shakes in her own lingering aftershocks. It’s so good. Intense as fuck and words are too much and oh yeah, Patrick’s stil fucking him, and if David were younger he’d probably be able to come again just from that.

He’s still floating, barely cognizant of his surroundings. Steve’s mouth isn’t on him any more, but she hasn’t gotten off his face yet, even though she squirms when he tries to kitten lick along her clitoral hood. So he satisfies himself with nuzzling against her inner thigh, at that line where thigh meets vulva, comforted by the heat of her body, the lingering musk of her arousal mixed with sweat and multiple orgasms. And then Patrick’s coming, painting him up inside with hot spurts of pearly white, and oh, he realizes, they’re kissing above him. Stevie’s hands are careessing Patrick’s pecs, and isn’t his husband just _dreamy_ when he’s snowballing with Stevie? David feels reality starting to get a little blurry at the edges, but he’s pretty sure that Patrick will tell him when they’re ready to clean up.

***

Or not. When David wakes, the room is dark, and neither one of those assholes bothered to wake up for a post-coital snack. So much for _aftercare_ , he thinks as he rolls his eyes. Only, you know, _fondly._ Because they’re pretty damn amazing assholes. _His_ assholes.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and sees that hours have passed. He’s a little stiff and achey, but in that _good_ way, except that he can’t quite feel his left arm. He blinks a bit more, coming into a greater awareness of his surroundings, and realizes that the reason he can’t feel that arm is because there’s a tiny brunette octopus wrapped around it, drooling into…wait, is that _his_ pillow? Dammit, Stevie. Still, she’s adorable when she’s snoring, although he’d never tell her that.

And Patrick—David’s breath hitches as he watches his husband sleep, golden lashes fanning out against those pale cheeks. He’s got an arm slung over Stevie’s torso so that his fingertips are grazing David’s hip, and it’s overwhelming, if David’s honest about it. To have them both, these two people whom he loves so much, and who love him back just as fiercely.

David lies there, listening to his two favorite people breathe (and snore and drool) in harmony, and lets himself enjoy the moment.

David Rose is a lucky man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one last Schitt's WIP to finish for y'all. Live Wire is going to be completed.


End file.
